A Change of Scenery
by ShutUpAndPull
Summary: A wee follow-up to a previous story, "Behind the Scenes," that finds Rick and Kate finally reuniting after a lengthy period apart. Fluff ensues.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **Rarely have I been asked to consider a follow-up to a piece I've written, and though I found it difficult to force myself to return in order to refresh the old memory, I offer sincere thanks to Twitter's aussiecate16 for the kind request. I hope this bit o' fluff brings you a smile.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

The only thing Rick Castle ever kept count of was wins recorded by his beloved Mets, and that was, much to his chagrin season after season, far easier an effort for his brain than pleased him to think about. Detective Rick Castle, on the other hand, well, he currently found himself in the midst of an even more painful occupation, and it had him as crabby as a cat in the rain.

It was as though great Gotham had forgotten how soft Kate's touch was-or how gloriously hard it made him-as though the city he'd devoted years of service to had begun taking amusement in the anguish of their separation and chosen to perpetuate it with cruel mocking. What'd once been a pebble of bitterness balancing on his shoulder now more closely resembled Everest, and felt like it, even more than that.

Twelve fucking weeks of humans killing other humans at a rate he hadn't seen since he'd joined NYPD Homicide, filling his every calendar day and night with bodies, one after another like some tumbling wall of dominoes, when all he wanted was a goddamned break to be able to get on a plane to Los Angeles and wrap Kate's body up in his. It wasn't as though he was asking the universe for something as outlandish as another Mets World Series appearance for crying out loud. That would've been absurd.

"If you aren't going to eat that lump of fat, can you throw it in the garbage where it belongs, please? The smell is nauseating me from here," his partner groused from her desk in the bullpen that butted up against his. The commissioner's golden girl never let one morning pass without some snarky comment about his choice of breakfasts. He could only assume it was on some daily checklist she kept, beneath brushing her teeth and shining her halo.

"Yeah, well, that rabbit food you call a meal is boring the shit out of me, so let's just say we're even." Rick didn't even feel like eating his beloved doughnut. That's how bad things had gotten. "What day is this?" he asked wishing he was kidding, his fingers busy unwrapping a piece of gum that also never made it into his mouth.

Jordan slid him a glance overflowing with words. "The day you put in for time off. You look like hell, Castle."

"It's not like I have another photo shoot with the mayor on my schedule. What time is yours, by the way?" She didn't either, but grasping and griping was all he had left in his tank. "And, in case you haven't noticed, we're up to our eyeballs in crime scene tape. No way in hell Montgomery lets me go anywhere."

She leaned back in her chair, didn't even blink when its metal screeched with its age. Little ever rattled her, and he envied her for it-hated her for it sometimes, too. "He will when I tell him you're about as useful right now as that cream-filled glob of dough is. Need I remind you that you forgot to bring your badge and your piece to the job yesterday-your job as a _cop? _I damn sure don't want a partner with me through the door who can't keep track of what the hell day it is. It's Tuesday, by the way."

Of course she was right, he knew, though not about the doughnut.

"It isn't a resignation, Castle," she continued on his expression, "it's a few days. We can actually function without you. Sleep. Go to a baseball game. Go out to L.A. and get yourself laid. I don't know. Just don't be here like this. I'll pull Clarkson in. He's been sucking up for months. Maybe a taste will stop his nipping at my ankles."

Rick finally reached for his Boston cream, gave it an overly enthusiastic bite and dribbled pudding down his chin onto his shirt. He'd unknowingly managed to leave some of the same caked to his face the first day he'd met Kate, he recalled in the frustrating, albeit satisfying, moment, and it seemed like a sure sign if ever there was one.

"Fine," he said, "I'll talk to Montgomery." Jordan immediately pulled her attention, and he swore he noted the hint of a grin. "You don't have to be so happy to get rid of me, you know."

_Tuesday_, he thought. _When the hell did that happen?_

**xxxx**

"What's with the gloom, Chuckles? I can practically see your rain cloud from here," Kate asked from the other end of the phone line, the nickname she'd once bestowed still one she called up with affection. "Another rough day?"

Rick squinted his eyes shut, pinched the bridge of his nose. "You could say that. You could also say you aren't wearing any clothes right now. That might help." They'd managed to really up their innuendo game with the distance, but sometimes the sting of it called on him to speed right past that exit.

"Wow, only _might_? Must be very rough." She paused for the rumble in his throat. "I'm sorry. It hasn't been a picnic here, either. At the rate we're going, I could be here all night."

He tightened his abdominal muscles-the ones he'd been neglecting-and maneuvered himself upright on the couch. "Why? What's going on?"

Kate recognized his worry and quickly soothed it. "It's nothing, really, just a ton of setups today and we can't get our shit together. I shouldn't even complain. It's not like people's lives are in my hands or anything, not for real, anyway."

The corner of Rick's lip curled when the rev of his imagination enticed it. "I'm going to preface this statement by pointing out it's entirely of your doing: Absolutely fucking everything in my life would be made instantly better if I was in your hands right now." He teased, yes, but that didn't make it untrue.

"Hey, Detective Mind in the Gutter, you're the one that keeps postponing, remember? Tell that city of yours to behave for a few days and get the hell out here. Then you can be in my hands… and other things."

"Kicking a guy when he's down? How cruel, Fauxtective." Nicknames went both ways. "How does Thursday sound to you? Shaw reminded me earlier what day it is today, so I know now that's in two days."

Kate's brow crinkled, but her confusion was promptly shoved aside by an excitement that kicked the pitch of her voice up an octave. "Seriously? You can come in two days?"

"Ooo, again with a naughty softball, which, in the interest of time, I'm going to let pass because I'm sure you have to get back to the important stuff. Basically, Shaw gave me the boot for a few days because I'm too good at my job and she was growing too jealous of me and my successes."

"I'm sure she'd give me the same reason if I asked her," Kate retorted, rightly suspicious. "And Thursday sounds perfect. Buy a ticket, right now, the second we hang up. I'm actually not shooting on Friday. We don't ever have to get out of bed. Wait, _shit_!" she blurted without a breath. "I have a thing Friday night. I told a friend I'd go to her art opening."

"Well, I don't want to get in the way of your plans. You go to whatever you have to go to. I can just snoop through your lacy lady things while you're out. Trust me. That definitely won't be a problem." She shook her head and he swore he could hear it. "Or we can just make it another time, when it works better for you."

"No, Rick, I want to see you now." A sigh escaped her lips. "I miss your face."

He wedged the phone between his ear and his shoulder, flipped open his laptop. "I miss you, too," he replied, masking how much behind soft words. "So, Thursday?"

"Yeah, Thursday. Hey, listen, I'm sorry but I have to go over some stuff before they call me back to set. We still have one more scene to shoot. Find a flight and send me the details?"

"I'm looking now, and I will. I hope it goes okay-the Martini, is it?"

Kate wet her lips, snagged the bottom between her teeth. "Did you just talk Hollywood to me?"

"I do believe I did. Impressed?"

"Be prepared for me to show you how impressed," she answered with a purr. "Oh, and just so you know, Rick, you are the important stuff."

**xxxx**

Because she was going to be at the studio when he arrived, Kate hid a key outside for Rick, so he could let himself in and get settled until she was released for the day. His flight didn't leave JFK until late that morning, landed at LAX just before 3 p.m., where he hopped in an Uber to the house.

It sat up on a hill behind a gate, surrounded by the browns and greens of a valley speckled with homes below, its grey stucco exterior interrupted only by the sunshine bright of its oversized front door. Beds of flowers lined the path of its entry, mapped and mingled by her hand, he imagined, the image so sweet he didn't realize he'd stopped to smile over them.

Once inside, he pushed the door shut behind him and pocketed the key, stood still for a moment in the scent of Kate that welcomed him, let it dance in his lungs like the sweet air after a rainstorm. It seemed impossible how long he'd survived without it, and there in the silence he vowed never to be away from her for that long ever again.

Setting his bag out of the way, he composed and sent her a text message to let her know he'd made it safely to the house. "The purple lace is my favorite, by the way," he tacked on in jest. "Might buy myself a set."

"I know a great shop in Hollywood I can bring you to," Kate sent back after a brief wait, playing along. "If everything goes smoothly here, I should be there by 7 p.m. Make yourself comfortable. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I got some beer and some wine. I can't wait to see you."

"Me too." He left it there and her to her business, found a plug for his phone and a sofa to crash on. He could hardly wait, either, and sleep, he hoped, would help the few hours that remained melt away.

**xxxx**

He'd woken not ten minutes before he heard the buzz of what he imagined was the garage door, and he hurriedly discarded the gum he'd popped in considerate preparation back inside its wrapper. Too many hours and days and weeks apart had the beat of his heart at a pound and his hunger for the touch of her beyond any the necessity for food had ever aroused.

"Rick?" Kate called out, and he instantly set off in search, taking only a few steps before she appeared at the end of the hallway.

A scene from a movie was what it resembled, that moment when time seemed to come to a halt, when a slow fade to black promised a beginning, when strings swelled and smiles hijacked faces. She dropped what she held in her hands to the floor and came for him, he for her.

Somewhere in the middle they collided with unrehearsed precision, mouth on mouth like two magnets absent free will. "God, I missed you. I missed you so much," Rick breathed out through frenzied tastes.

Kate curled her fingers around a fistful of his hair with the sound of him, her eagerness possessive in its unveiling. It wouldn't have mattered what he'd said. The heat of his whisper against her lips was all her body needed to begin its ascent.

"Bedroom," she pleaded with a tug, leading him back around the corner and through the nearest doorway. "Bedroom." Within seconds she had his belt unfastened, his jeans around his ankles, and his t-shirt tossed away. Planting both hands on his chest, she pushed him onto the bed.

"Normally," he said with an animated huff, "normally, I'd ask you to peel your clothes off slowly so I could savor every second of it, but I can't wait that long, so get yourself naked, and make it fast."

She put up no fight, her fingers fumbling with buttons as her eyes sampled his skin, his muscle and bone, his every inch. "You order perps around like that, Officer Castle?" Her shirt fell to the floor and she flung it away with her foot. "What does Jordan have to say about that?"

He pushed up onto his elbows, growing harder for her with each passing second. "Only the cute ones. And maybe we don't talk about my partner right now, huh?" He flashed a peep at the only part of him that remained covered. "You don't want to scare him away, do you? He traveled such a long way to feel you."

Wearing but the trace of a smile, Kate stepped up to the bed, hitched up her leg and climbed on, inched deliberately up the length of his thighs until she was able to grab hold of the waistband of his boxers.

"What I want has nothing to do with talking." With a yank, she freed him, her body already warm and slick with anticipation. Leaning over him, his arms drew around her at the back, and she pressed her lips to his ear. "I spent every second of today thinking about fucking you."

That was the last thing either of them said.

.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The sun had left Thursday in the capable hands of the moon by the time they'd found way to raise their first white flag in surrender, which was as far from voluntary as involuntary could be. The weeks that'd become the months of their separation had left each ravenous for the other, manifesting, it seemed, in some sort of erotic competition over which could evidence their desire with more rapturous result.

The game had no loser to be named, of course, quite the contrary.

"Your bedroom's nice," Rick remarked out of the blue, his first utterance of anything more than a plea or a direction since Kate had taken him into her body. "I like it."

She pressed a kiss to his chest. "I'm glad, because it's the guest room… your room, actually," she replied, unable to muzzle a giggle or perpetuate the ruse for more than a few seconds.

"Oh, that's very funny." He nudged her with his leg beneath the sheets. "Speaking of room, there's only enough of it for one Chuckles in this relationship, so cool it with the funny business, actor-lady."

He sucked in a mouthful of air when she stroked him. "Just wait until I get you into my bed." Pushing for his mouth, she seized it hot and hard, retreated with a nip of his lip. "Have I told you how good you taste?" Her forehead settled at his shoulder. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to get back to New York, Rick. Our schedule's been crazy."

"Listen, you don't ever need to apologize to me for doing what you love, and it's not like I've been Mr. Available. We knew the distance thing wasn't going to be easy, but I sure as hell don't want to give this up because of it." She nestled into the curve of him and he kissed the crown of her head. "I can't give this up. I love you too much, and I only want you."

Kate had heard him say it a hundred times since she'd left him in New York, but the vibration of the words on his voice as her head lay there upon his chest was a sensation unlike any other had ever been.

"Love me enough to get out of this bed and make me breakfast?"

Rick hadn't a clue what time it was, but it certainly wasn't a breakfast hour. "I guess before I agree to this curious dinner-o'clock request-or I think emotional blackmail is a better term for it-what would Chef Rick be making?"

"I have eggs and veggies from the farmers market near the studio. How about omelets? Oh, and I have the best cinnamon raisin bread!" she exclaimed with childlike delight.

He stifled a laugh. "Okay then, two follow-up questions: Will you come be my sous-chef? Will you also be naked?"

Slowly she began to shift in the darkness, until he felt her mouth hovering deliciously close. "If you're naked, I'll definitely come," she whispered wickedly before sliding from the bed, and he could only imagine her grin was even wider than his.

**xxxx**

It wasn't that he didn't believe she was real; he could feel her weight, her warmth, but, as she so often did, that morning she resembled a sight poured from a dream, one of such placidity and enchantment, he wanted to swim in it forever.

"Whatever that look's for, I'm sure I can't possibly deserve it." His squeak somewhere in the middle made Kate's eyes twitch with amusement. "What time is it?"

"It doesn't matter," she said and meant it. "Neither of us has to be anywhere today, not for hours, anyway. And I'm looking at you like you're beautiful, because you are."

The fingers of both her hands were curled around a ceramic mug, the largest he'd ever seen, but that could wait. Propping himself up, he offered an apology and then kissed her, open but soft.

"Is there any java left in the world for the rest of us or am I going to have to put my cop hat on during my vacation and de-mug you for a fix?"

Kate shot him a sneer. "I'll have you know this is a Kate Beckett original. Crafted it with her own two hands. She's sorta famous." She extended it, allowed him a sip. "What was the apology for?"

Rick let the pleasure of the coffee slide out of his throat. "My morning breath. Now we match, though." He waggled his brow. Subtle he rarely was.

Her fingers found his cheek, her thumb tracing its arc. "You look tired, Rick," she told him. It struck her as something deeper than the limited sleep born of their reunion, and her tone intimated concern.

He let his body angle back to the pillows at the headboard. "That's because I am tired. People keep doing shitty things to other people, and it seems like all the bodies have been landing on my doorstep."

She wasn't going to, but she just couldn't help herself.

"You mean Jordan's doorstep?" She smiled but he didn't-too deliberately, though. "You know I'm kidding. Get that puss outta here." One more sip and she relinquished her vessel of caffeine to the nightstand. "I'm sorry it's been so tough lately. I only have to live the fantasy version. I can't imagine what you live every day."

He slid his fingers between hers. "You were there. You saw it."

"I saw a lot more of you than I did of anything else. I mean, I'm good with the technical stuff. I pick that up and it sticks, but, honestly, most of the time I couldn't see beyond you. Maybe that little tidbit stays within these walls."

Rick eyed the mug that now sat within reach beside him. "Your secret's a lot safer with me than that vat of coffee is. I'll tell you that right now." He went to reach for it and Kate slapped his hand away. "_Hey!_ After everything I gave you last night, this is the thanks I get?"

It bewildered her how much she wanted him in that moment, and how little his whining warranted attention, let alone reward, but, oh, how she did and how it was about to get it.

**xxxx**

"Leave it unbuttoned."

It equally startled him and stirred him, the sound of Kate's voice and the smoke in it. He didn't know how long she'd been lingering there in the doorway watching him, but it'd been long enough for her to have witnessed a most foolish battle, one that'd broken out between him and the collar of his shirt.

The invitation had come as a surprise-evidenced, certainly, by the lack of anything proper to be worn in the bag he'd packed-and though he'd assured her he'd be fine if she headed off alone for her friend's art opening, she'd implemented a strategy of convincing beyond all argument.

Kate finally came across the threshold, her eyes locked on his by way of the generous mirror that hung on the wall, and drew her arms around his waist, tucked the remaining flap of shirt fabric into his jeans.

"This isn't…" he began to say as he drank her in. "Look at you. You look incredible, and here I am wearing some old jeans and a plaid shirt. You should just go alone, Kate. I don't want to embarrass you in front of your friends."

She moved around his body and pinned herself between him and the edge of the vanity. "You could never embarrass me." Her fingers stroked his face. "I think you know the kind of person I am. At least, I hope you do. If being there tonight is going to make you uncomfortable, then I want you to stay, but please, Rick, don't stay for me."

He smiled softly, leaned sideways and gave himself another look. "Unbuttoned? You're sure?"

Rising up onto her tiptoes, Kate demonstrated precisely why she'd been so insistent by taking her mouth and her tongue to the exposed skin of his neck.

"Can you feel how sure I am?"

The purr in her voice was back, and at the mere price of his legs' stability, an exchange he gladly found himself a part of. "You really do look incredible. I guess there is that, right?" he asked, caressing the ends of her hair between his fingertips. "Who the hell is even going to know I exist when I walk in there with you?"

"You just knocked ten minutes off what was already going to be a very brief appearance. Keep saying stuff like that and we'll barely get a foot in the place," Kate teased, reaching for a tissue to wipe away the memento her lipstick had left behind.

**xxxx**

"Holy shit, Kate," her artist friend and the woman of the hour, Hadley, all but squealed when Kate pointed out which of the men in the small crowd that'd gathered early was hers. Rick had offered to visit the bar to fetch some wine, to brave the room on his own, plaid be damned. "Grady said he was a hot cop, but we all know his taste in men is usually for shit." She took a swig of her own cocktail. "He can frisk me anytime he likes."

Kate smacked her on the arm, playful and yet. "Hey, you know I love you, but I'm not above kicking your brilliant canvas-painting ass. The show paid good money for these muscles. I could do it."

"It's so cute you believe that, Twiggy, but thanks for the 'brilliant.' Speaking of which, where's my introduction to that brilliant co-star of yours? You've been working on that show for months and I'm still waiting. If I don't get laid soon, my paintings are going to start devolving into series of self-portraits of me as a spinster."

"Are you drunk? Is your drink spiked or something?" Kate rolled her eyes, but swiftly directed them back to Rick. "The only thing my co-star is brilliant at is being a jackass. I'm doing you a favor, trust me. You should take Jack to bed and be done with it. You're like the sun to him. You know that, right?"

Hadley gave her a nudge, one neither gentle nor subtle, as Rick spotted the pair and set off on his approach. "From what I can see, I guess you know what that's like. Maybe you two can find a closet somewhere."

"Shut up," Kate hissed, though the notion wasn't one she was entirely opposed to. "Hey," she said to Rick when he stepped up beside her and handed off the wine that, in minutes, had blossomed from a want to a need. "Thanks. Um, Rick, this is Hadley. This is her opening. Hadley, this is Rick."

He extended a hand, which she met and held a few seconds longer than Kate enjoyed. "Hadley's a very cool name for a very cool artist. I haven't had a chance to walk around and see everything, yet, but I like your stuff."

"Hear that, Kate? The hot cop likes my stuff."

"You'll have to excuse my friend. She's heavily medicated." She slid her free hand down Rick's forearm and into his. "Rick studied art in college, actually. It's what brought him to the NYPD."

"Well, well, he's even hotter now. Has our girl shown you her studio, yet, Rick? What she's been cooking up in there?"

Rick turned, got a glimpse of the rosy glow invading Kate's cheeks and gave her hand a tender squeeze. "Not yet, no, but creating can be a pretty personal thing. I'm going to leave it up to her to decide whether or not she wants to share that." He was speaking less to Hadley than he was to Kate, which he imagined she understood.

With a raise of her glass, Hadley locked on a guest across the way, gifted Kate's cheek with the mark of her fire-engine-red lips, and fluttered away.

"Okay, I've now met two of your friends, and my head was already still spinning from the first. I can't believe it didn't fly clear off from that one," Rick commented downing a gulp. "Your dinner parties must be insane."

Kate snickered. "I met her in a workshop I did a few years ago. The first words she ever said to me were 'Fucking hell, you're gorgeous.' She's… a lot and she embraces it. She lives out loud, you know? How can I not love her for that?"

Rick whispered "You are" in her ear and left a peck. "Should we walk, give everyone in this place a taste of what art admiring art looks like?" he asked, their fingers still laced.

He had no idea of it, the extent to which he'd just plucked a most treasured nerve, because neither the time nor the place allowed her the freedom to suitably express it. Instead, she exhaled a requisite breath, and then, in quiet reward, chopped another ten minutes from the evening's clock, and disappeared with him into the crowd.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

A whisper of a moan passed Kate's lips, and it was as though Rick heard the pop of a starter pistol, except the race they'd entered was already well underway. Thirty-eight minutes it'd taken their driver to get them back to the house from the gallery, thirty-eight minutes of an itch they'd longed to but couldn't scratch. Sunset Boulevard was dreadful at almost any hour of any day, but it was absolute hell on a Friday night, and the relief she felt at finally being able to put her mouth on him was more than her body could contain.

The two fumbled their way through the happy yellow door and came to clumsy rest against a sliver of wall kind enough to catch them, Kate's back planted firm, Rick's thigh clinched between the greedy muscles of hers and working a degree of magic he had no idea of.

"I want to show you," spilled out of her in nothing more than a breath, because, somehow, Rick had managed to tune his position the very fraction she didn't even know she needed, and it was all she could do to speak at all.

With a last dizzying nip of her neck, he pulled back, met her eye. "That sounds very promising for me," he replied, granting the skin exposed by the titillating plunge of her blouse another once-over-another in the evening's long line of them. "I'm pretty sure I've already seen everything, though. You grow something new since we left here?"

"That's funny, Chuckles. Drop the mic. Come with me."

Kate took him by the hand, led him through the kitchen to a set of stairs off the back. She'd already given him a tour of the house, naturally, kissed him silly in each room-more than that in a few of them-but wherever it was she was bringing him, he hadn't yet been.

At the top of the staircase, Kate flipped a switch and illuminated a sprawling room of bright white, floor planks to ceiling beams, its walls peppered with vibrantly painted canvases of all sizes and shapes.

"I know you said I didn't have to, but I want to share this with you," she told him as they stood hand in hand, surrounded by creations unseen by all but a special few.

Rick scanned the room, his lips parted in awe. "These are yours? You painted all of these?"

"Most of them are. A few are by local artists, and I just haven't found a spot downstairs I like for them, yet. There are a couple of Hadley's pieces here, too. I was afraid of what she might do to me if I didn't agree to buy them from her," she added amusingly.

He slid his fingers from hers, wandered off toward one piece in particular that'd captured his attention. Kate remained where she was and watched him, the blush in her cheeks now one not of bashfulness but of profound warmth of affection.

"I've seen this one, when we were with Grady that morning," he said over his shoulder. "I remember."

Then, like a visitor floating the hushed halls of a city art museum, he moved on, one canvas after another, drinking in some longer than others for reasons he didn't share and she didn't seek, before coming back to her.

"What's wrong?" Kate asked, but softly. Though she wasn't certain why, suddenly his heart felt like delicate glass in her hands. "Rick…"

"A part of me was nervous about seeing you after all this time," he confessed to her surprise, because nothing about him had given her any indication of the sort. "All I carry around with me every day is ugliness. It's all I see, and to stand here with you and all this beauty you create… I don't want to be someone who brings darkness into your life, Kate."

The ache in her heart was instantaneous. She stepped into him, drew her arms around him.

"Listen to me, okay? _Listen_. Rick, I work in fantasy, I don't live in it." She cupped his cheek with her palm and he laid his hand over hers, turned and pressed a kiss. "You're able to walk into that ugliness every day and come out the other side because you're filled with light. That light is what I see, and it's real. It's the reason I fell in love with you."

She gave his shirt a gentle tug, guided him to a sheet draped over something to shroud it. "I haven't finished it, but go ahead, look at it." Rick narrowed his eyes in feigned suspicion. "Just uncover it," she pressed.

There on the canvas he saw his face staring back at him, as clearly as if he was looking in a mirror. It was crafted cleverly of shapes sewn together by contrasting colors, each bold and bright, most notably his eyes, which, he noticed straight away, were painted in different hues.

"For me, this is you," Kate informed with a tender smile. "I wanted to know what would come of you if I breathed you out, and this was how my heart answered."

Rick pointed, but in his captivation managed only two words. "The eyes-"

"One blue and one green. When I look at you I also see myself." He turned and wrapped her in his arms. "I don't see darkness when I'm with you," she whispered into his ear. "I don't want you to ever think that."

"I love you," Rick told her twice, because once could never be enough, and affirmed it with a kiss every bit as earnest as his words. "So, I know we're sort of having a moment here but, um, since you did let me into your secret artist's lair, care to let me get you naked and give this painting thing a whirl? With you as my model, who knows? I could be the next Picasso."

"I think the world's doing just fine with one Picasso," Kate came back without a blink, gliding her tongue across the lips he'd left tingling.

"Okay, then how about Plan B? Care to let me get you naked, carry you over to that desk in the corner, and do unspeakable things to your body?"

The notion of Plan B most definitely got flowing whatever juices the kiss hadn't.

"You know how fond I am of your brush and its strokes, Detective Castle," she deadpanned but broke almost immediately, and with her flung over his shoulder, they laughed together as he whisked her across the room.

**xxxx**

"Stop it. I told you I'm not giving it back," Kate reaffirmed when she caught him still eyeing her as they strolled the beach in Malibu the next morning. "It's the only thing of yours I have. Besides, it looks better on me, anyway." That wasn't even a bit true. He looked sexy as hell in it, but she never tired of poking at him.

Rick curled an arm around her shoulder, left a kiss at her temple. "You have my everything. But, I will give you the second part. I especially enjoy how the hole in it falls right-"

She knew precisely what he enjoyed about the hole in that old Zeppelin tee she'd swiped from him in New York, and she would've been lying if she'd told him the very thing hadn't crossed her mind when she'd slipped it on that morning. Never did her body hum with greater fervor than when his eyes were on her, and how she relished the sensation.

"Yeah, I bet you do," she cut him off with a pinch of his waist, "and you still can't have it back." She slowed her stride and came to a stop, let the remnants of an incoming wave crawl over her bare feet. "So, what do you think?" she asked him of her much cherished sanctuary, the place she ran to when her mind craved calm.

He gazed out across the ocean bobbing beneath the layer cake of grey clouds. "I mean, it's no Hudson River, obviously, but I guess I can see why you like it," he joked. "Okay, I kid because I'm envious. You live in a beautiful world out here-the beach, your house, all of it."

Kate let her body lean into his. "I do, but New York has Coney Island," she said, recalling pleasantly their first date. "And it has you."

"I've already given up on the shirt. There's no need for that sweet talk business now." He gave her a playful nudge, got them moving again.

"Actually, um, I've been thinking about something that I wanted to talk to you about."

Rick's brow perked. "Does it involve the whipped cream you mentioned that time? Don't think I've forgotten about that. Or that I ever will."

She slid him the side-eye, kicked her foot up and splattered his jeans with water. "You know, sometimes I really do feel sorry for Jordan," she ribbed.

"Fine, I'm listening," he mumbled like a scolded child.

All at once, she found herself jittery, the sort evidenced by the flutter of butterflies in her belly-the welcome sort.

"I wonder how you might feel about my coming out to New York for a while, after we wrap the show. I was thinking about maybe trying to get into a theater project or something." It took a few seconds for her to realize Rick wasn't walking beside her any longer. "What are you doing?"

"I think my legs stopped working somewhere around 'New York.'"

She went back for him when he made no attempt to move, looped her fingers around his belt loops and pressed into him. "That's okay. As long as the important parts of you still work, we can get through this." She winked, and he settled his forehead against hers. "I know your work has to be there, mine doesn't, and if cared about any of the Hollywood BS it thinks I should, the decision might've been a difficult one, but I don't. Right now, I just want to be near you again."

"You want me to put in a word with Captain Montgomery, see if I can score you your old gig back at the precinct until you get on your feet in the big, bad city?"

"Right, because I was so helpful at what the first time around, seducing one of his star detectives? I think I'll be okay, thanks." He propped a finger beneath her chin, announced his intention with but a flick of his eyes, and seized her mouth. "Was that your way of telling me you're good with the idea?" she asked when they parted, her legs likewise weakened.

"Good with it? Are you kidding me? It's the best idea I've heard since the whipped cream. See what I did? I didn't forget it. I brought it back around again." He scooped her up without warning and spun her around as rain began to fall. Despite the weight of all he'd carried there with him, he hadn't felt that light in months, as unburdened, as joyful. "I love you, and I'd love it if you'd come."

She pinched his ear with her teeth, apologized for it with her tongue. "It's raining. Time to go. Take me home and I'll let you try."

Rick's hand dove into the pocket of his jeans when he set her down on the sand and pulled out a pack of gum. He popped two pieces before she could even blink.

"Think of it; you in my bed, naked, all the time. Oh, I'm going to need so much gum for this, Shaw's going to hate me. She'll have to pull the car over at a bodega on every block. I'm sure it's wrong how much I'm enjoying that thought."

"Hey." She flicked him on the arm when he became lost in it. "I can manage just fine on my own if standing out here in the rain is how _you'd_ rather get wet."

He swiveled his neck calmly, casually. "It's only sprinkling. You don't want to finish our walk? Just kidding, race you to the car!" he shouted and took off running, left her there shaking her head.

**xxxx**

"Finished rehearsal," Kate's text message to Rick read that afternoon. "Picked us up something special for dinner. Bring your appetite home with you," she added, but-and though he couldn't know it-didn't mean entirely for food.

She'd been back in New York exactly a month to the day, with the play she'd been cast in a week, and had experienced no pangs of regret about either. What she wanted most she had in waking up each morning and falling asleep each night beside him. In following her heart, there'd been nothing she'd given up or left behind, and celebrating that had been tickling her mind all day.

It was just after 7 p.m. when she heard his key in the lock, her focus instantly pulled from the business of preparation for their meal. She'd showered again, because the effect of her scent on him always aroused her, and covered only in a robe, recognizing the slim chance they'd actually make it to the table before they made it to the bed, at least if she had anything to say about it.

"Hey, wow, something smells incredible in here," Rick remarked as he approached, moved in behind her and sampled the fresh skin at the back of her neck. "Whatever's cooking does, too." He reached around and plucked a sliver of carrot from the pile. "Tell me how rehearsal went and then kiss me like you mean it."

"You're in a good mood," Kate noted, selfishly pleased. "Jordan get a paper cut or something?"

Grabbing her at the waist, he spun her, accidentally loosening the sash of her robe which trickled open. "I'm not sure I like what it is you're insinuating, so this kiss better really do it for me." His gaze drifted south and lingered with the fortuitous charity of his grip. "The outfit's a good start, by the way."

"Special anniversaries deserve special outfits," she purred, her mouth submitting absent any further coaxing.

It was the beep of the oven's timer and nothing more that separated them. Had it not, the kitchen floor might well have jumped in front of the bed in line.

"Now, I'm aware this might get me into some trouble, but… anniversary?"

Kate reached over and silenced the alarm she'd set, punched in a new. "It'll get you into something, but not trouble," she quipped. "It's just, I realized earlier that I've been here with you a month now, that's all, and it made me feel happy. I thought it might be nice to commemorate it."

Rick opened his arms and silently summoned her. "You make me feel happy. You make me feel more happiness than anyone or anything ever has, and all I want is to spend the rest of my life making you feel the same."

A grin he couldn't see crept from her lips all the way up to her eyes.

"We have thirty minutes," she told him with a peek at the clock. "I'm going into the bedroom. You go into the fridge and get our present. Then come find me." She drifted off, the robe now dipped below the line of her bare shoulders. "And bring both, one for each of us."

His hand flew to the refrigerator's handle and he yanked it open. There, alone on the top shelf, sat two cans of whipped cream, wrapped in a bow, staring him right in the face.

**xx**


End file.
